


I'll Be (Your) Home for Christmas

by VeraBAdler



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:28:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28300875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeraBAdler/pseuds/VeraBAdler
Summary: Dean and Cas work separately, and then together, to make their Christmas bright.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 66





	I'll Be (Your) Home for Christmas

"We should be back in the Bunker by now," Dean spits. The walls of their cheap motel room still vibrate from how hard he'd slammed the door on his way in. "It's Christmas fucking Eve and we shouldn't still _be here_." His shoulders slump as the rage leaves him in a rush and only dejection remains. "This is not how it was supposed to go, goddammit," he grits out under his breath.

Cas freezes, caught awkward and helpless in the face of Dean's outburst. He aches to fix this situation for his friend. If he could, he would snap his fingers and solve the case. He would eradicate monsters from the face of the earth. If nothing else, he would at least be able to teleport them both back to the Bunker, where Jack and Sam and Eileen and Miracle are waiting for them with presents and food and Christmas cheer. With his grace gone, though, he's powerless, useless. He stays where he is -- on his feet, between the musty beds, arms limp at his sides -- and waits to see what Dean does next.

"I gotta--" The hunter runs a shaky hand through his hair. "I gotta get out of here for a little bit. I saw a strip mall a couple miles down the road, m'gonna go grab us some dinner and a coupla six packs."

Cas takes a step toward the door, intending to join him for the trip, but Dean raises a palm. "You hang here. I'll be back in an hour or so." And then Cas is alone in the room. From the silence that follows his friend's exit, Dean is making the trip on foot, presumably in need of a walk to clear his head.

Cas lets out a heavy breath and sinks down onto one of the beds, his head in his hands. The case had looked so simple a week ago -- a "milk run" as Sam and Dean like to say. But the deeper they look, the more complicated it becomes, and their breezy plans to tie things up quickly and be back in time to celebrate Christmas as a family have been crushed into dust. It's a terrible disappointment to Cas, but it's a _heartbreak_ for Dean, who had thrown himself headlong into plans for their first "real" holiday together in a post-Chuck world.

He thinks about the way Dean's beautiful face had fallen today when the case hit the latest dead end, and the memory is galvanizing. He leaps to his feet, resolute, a plan of action taking shape in his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Dean returns to the room an hour and a half later, the space has been transformed to the best of Cas's meager human abilities. A makeshift chain of (mostly clean) socks tied together drapes more or less gaily over the door frame. The complimentary notepads from the bedside table have been folded into dozens of tiny origami snowflakes, which are stuck to the walls with dabs of toothpaste. Festive lighting is provided by colored t-shirts over the lampshades. He's pushed the beds against opposite walls so that the table can take pride of place, and spread a plaid shirt over it as a tablecloth. Arrayed on the flannel are the spoils of a raid on the motel's vending machines, featuring some of Dean's favorite snacks. The TV casts a cheery glow in the far corner -- a classic Christmas movie is playing with the sound turned low.

It's nothing like the elegant holiday scenes they show in the movies. But given his limited time and resources, Cas thinks he's justified in feeling a bit of pride at how well it all turned out.

Dean certainly seems impressed.

"Holy shit, Cas, what happened in here?" he asks. There's a soft and wondering expression on his face as he looks around the room.

"I wanted to do something for you," Cas replies. "I saw how excited you were for our Christmas celebration, and how upset you are to be missing it. I know being here with me is a poor substitute for the holiday you were planning, but..." he shrugs. "I hope this helps a little."

"Poor substi--" Dean shakes his head and drops the bags he'd been carrying. "Cas, the whole reason I was so excited for Christmas was because I wanted to share it with _you_. I had so many things I wanted to show you... Here, look what I got!"

He dumps one of the bags onto the bed, pouring out a pile of decorations. "Guess we both had the same idea, huh?" he remarks with a grin. They take turns pulling items from the heap -- garlands, tinsel, ornaments, candy canes, even a handful of chocolate dreidels -- and adding them to the decor of the room.

When they're done, Dean produces two large clamshell containers from another bag and sets them on the table with a flourish. "Dinner for two from our favorite burger joint," he declares. Turning back to the bags, he lays a few more items on the dingy bedspread. "Bottle of cheap red," he narrates, "And pie, obviously. Then after we eat..." He hands Cas a copy of Battleship and a jigsaw puzzle. "Games," he announces.

It's Cas's turn to be impressed. No, more than that: Cas is _floored_. He sits down on one of the beds and he _marvels_. "You got all of this for _us_ , for _tonight_?"

"Yeah, 'course," Dean replies, taking a seat next to him. "I wanted to give you a real Christmas this year. Decorations and food and booze and music and all the trimmings, you know? We got a taste of that with Mrs. Butters, but you missed out, and I hated that. It wasn't a real celebration without you, man." The hunter reaches one more time into the bags behind them, and pulls his hand out with fist clenched around something small. His eyes fix on the small stretch of blankets between them, and a light flush spreads across his cheeks. "I, um... I picked up one more thing while I was out. Not sure if you're familiar with this tradition, but..."

He unfolds his hand and displays a small sprig of mistletoe, a red ribbon tied around the stem. "If-if you don't want... We don't have to--" he stammers.

Cas plucks the plant from his friend's hand and holds it over his own head. "Like this, right?" he murmurs, and licks his lips.

Dean nods, gaze trained on the pink peek of Cas's tongue. He leans in, and Cas meets him halfway.

It starts out chaste and sweet. But after a few heartbeats the kiss deepens, and their hands begin to wander. When they eventually have to come up for air they're laid out together across the bed -- hair mussed, mouths flushed, clothes a tad askew. There's a love-drunk smile stretched across Cas's face, and he feels like it might be permanent. Then something sobering occurs to him. "I'm still sorry you can't be home for Christmas," he whispers.

Dean grins and pecks him on the nose. "Baby, I'm exactly where I wanna be."

**Author's Note:**

> This fic started with an idea for a title, and grew from there. Just as I sat down to start writing it, my holiday music shuffled to ["(Not) Home for the Holidays" by Love Axe](https://loveaxe.bandcamp.com/album/have-yourself-a-very-little-christmas), which felt like a very good omen indeed.
> 
> Rebloggable link for this fic on tumblr is [here](https://blessyourhondahurley.tumblr.com/post/638430976001916928/ill-be-your-home-for-christmas).


End file.
